


Being a Record of the Final Ascension of the Last Heiress of Alternia

by ToasterOmlette



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, John Egbert Becomes King of Surrogate Quadrantmates, John Egbert Goes to Troll Jail, adult trolls living on Alternia out of plot convenience, non-sburb AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToasterOmlette/pseuds/ToasterOmlette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert only wanted to pay a visit to his friend on Alternia. He didn't want to see something he shouldn't have, buried deep below the earth. He didn't want to get sent to one of the worst troll prisons in the sector and become caught up in the madcap schemes of one Vriska Serket and her reluctant kismesis. He didn't want to confront the Empress and ensure she was taken off her throne to make way for a more worthy successor. And he certainly didn't want to become involved in a plot that would result in his near death on any number of occasions.</p><p> John Egbert didn't want to do a lot of things, but he did them anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being a Record of the Final Ascension of the Last Heiress of Alternia

The shuttle detached from the side of the cruiser with a jolt, and John wrapped his hands tightly around the straps holding him in his seat. He felt the nausea that had plagued him at the beginning of the flight return, and wished he could've brought some sort of stomach pill to help him; Alternia had strict import regulations and all outside medicines were forbidden. More than likely the only drug available at the docking station would be the soper capsules that were quickly increasing in popularity both on Alternia and on Earth. Previously, soper had been ingested only illegally, trolls fermenting it in their recuperoms to increase the potency and selling it on the black market to the highest bidder. Legal soper was nowhere near as strong, the pills giving you just enough of a kick to lighten a bad mood or, in John's case, cure an upset stomach.

He was the only human on the shuttle, and everywhere else trolls shifted restlessly, anxious to be back home. Earth did not agree with them, the sunlight that failed to burn or blind still enough to irritate; the people too soft and peaceful, the rules and regulations too rigid. On Earth, you couldn't strike a man dead simply because he had insulted your lusus. On Alternia, you could, providing the hemocastes were organized in your favor.

Likewise, the majority of the human population avoided Alternia. Those who paid the bleak planet a visit were either government employees or thrill-seekers looking to find something to write home about, be it picking a fight with a seadweller or downing half a tin of volatile soper.

John was neither of these. He was there on a social visit, the least common of all interstellar travel premises. That wasn't to say that trolls and humans hadn't managed to form connections, but most communication was done solely through Skaianet's Pesterchum networking application. That was how he'd met Karkat, a runt of a troll with unkempt black hair and an even more unruly personality. Karkat was a habitual multitasker, and whenever John talking with him he'd found that the troll was already carrying out multiple conversations, flitting between them with uncanny accuracy. Occasionally John would find himself blasted with a slew of colorful metaphors when a message meant for someone else was accidentally typed into the wrong window, but he tried to convince himself that he really didn't mind.

Despite this, the two had bonded over their love of movies of the sort that the rest of society might regard as being sub-par - John with his Nicolas Cage films and Karkat with his Alternian rom-coms that John could never make sense of no matter how hard he tried.

Karkat had tried to explain the subtle machinations of the quadrant system to him one night when they were streaming an instance of "A Green Blooded Troll Develops Flushed Feelings For The Neutral Party In His Auspistice And Is Forced To Go Through Several Rigorous and Roundabout Tasks That Serve Little Logical Purpose Except To Contritely Move The Plot Forwards By Means of Pithy Sight Gags In Order To Win The Affections Of His Future Matesprit. These Sight Gags Include Four Fatal Defenestrations, Two Misdirected Assassinations, Five Humorous Decapitations and One Simulated Sex Act With a Hoofbeast. In The End The Green Blood And His Former Auspistice Are Able To Consummate Their Newly Blossomed Red Romance When The Third Member Of The Ashen Triangle Is Eliminated In a Bombing Raid on An Alien Planet."

"See, you can't be flushed for the neutral party of your auspistice," Karkat had said. "It just doesn't work!"

"But why not?" John had asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like it would be _that_ big of a problem."

"Am I going to have to explain to you _again_ how an auspistice works, Egbert? Because I distinctly recall having done so at _least_ three times already. You can't consummate a red relationship with your neutral party because then you and your pathetic wannabe-kismesis end up killing each other because your neutral party is too busy trying to initiate sloppy _makeouts_ with you to bother auspisticing!"

"Oh."

"Yeah. So don't ask me again."

"But what about-"

"Shut up and watch the fucking movie, Egbert."

The quadrant system was remarkably convoluted in ways that John couldn't even begin to understand, no matter how many times his friend had attempted to explain. The only thing that had made at least some amount of sense was redrom, due to its many similarities to human romance. The rest amounted to a bizarre clusterfuck of God-knew-what, and so he'd given up trying to figure it out. It wasn't as though it particularly mattered, anyways.

What _did_ matter, at the present moment, was that John keep his stomach from leaping from its comfortable position in his chest cavity up into his throat. He swallowed and tightened his grip yet again as the shuttle began descending through the lower portion of the atmosphere. If he leaned forwards slightly he could make out the sodium-yellow glow of city lights beneath a sooty haze of smog that broke only in places where the communal hivestems were tall enough to breach the cloud layer. He had not expected it to be quite so dark, but trolls were a nocturnal species by necessity, though he had heard that those of the jade-blooded hemotype had developed some sort of natural tolerance to sunlight. However, he was at a loss to say exactly how, as the trolls kept most of their scientific research to themselves, particularly where Alternian biology was concerned.

At least, _some_ aspects of Alternian biology. But John didn't think about that very often, if at all. There was no denying that some of the films Karkat had shown him were borderline _racey_ , but things being as they were-

His train of thought halted as the rear engines cut out and the keelward rockets flared to life, sending a shudder up through the floor that jarred his bones and rattled his jaw. The lights of the city rose up outside the window as the craft slowly descended, coming to rest on the docking platform and latching on with a pair of heavy clamps. Most of the passangers ignored the order to remain seated until the shuttle was fully secured, dragging their baggage out from beneath their seats and the compartments located in the roof, those of similar blood chatting amiably and ignoring the looks tossed their way by some of their higher-blooded peers.

Once the passageway between the shuttle and the station was firmly locked in place, John hoisted himself out of his seat and tugged his small duffle bag out from underneath it, throwing the strap over his shoulder and tentatively making his way towards the exit to the shuttle. He took care to jostle as few of the other passangers as possible, remembering the troll penchant for violence. The majority of them were lowerbloods, and so presumably less likely to lash out at him, but you could never tell. It was different seeing them on their home planet, where they were unbound by the regulations of Earth. Intimidating, at the very least. Almost frightening. He hoped that Karkat would still be as amiable as he had seemed during their chats.

_Who am I kidding. Of course he will._

The arrival bay was far more crowded than John had expected, and it was difficult to take even a few steps without jostling a few elbows or shuffling through a clump of conversing trolls. Thankfully, the trolls were too engrossed in their own business to pay a skinny human in a dusty blue jacket any close attention. A pair of subjugglators lurking by the front doors leered at him as he passed, but they did the same to everyone. Every so often a highblood would stop and exchange a word with the two, but they were brief words, and the trolls would more often than not walk away with an expression on their face that said they wished they hadn't stopped at all.

Outside, the air was thick and heavy, and John coughed several times before he managed to take a proper breath. He almost immediately wished he hadn't - the air tasted strongly of chemicals, and he hoped that it was only a passing thing, some characteristic of the inner city that would fade away once he arrived at Karkat's hive. He glanced around, searching for something that looked like a taxi and wondering if they even had taxis on Alternia. There was no reason why they shouldn't. He was about to set out towards a dull yellow vehicle with a promising look to it when a familiar voice rose above the surrounding tumult of the station.

"Hey, Egbert!" it shrilled, and John wheeled around to see a troll with a grey hood pulled low over his face roughly pushing his way through the crowd, ignorant of the irritated looks flung at his receding back. "And just where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"I _was_ going to try and catch a taxi to your hive, but-"

"Don't even bother trying to explain to me what a taxi is. I can't deal with your ridiculous Earth lingo. And we're walking."

"Why?"

"Because if you didn't have me to grubsit you like some overworked jadeblood you'd probably get your sorry ass killed. There's also the fact that I'm piss-poor and can't afford to pay the gratuitous transport fees, much less stand to listen to some high-and-mighty chauffportalist go on about his sad and pathetic sex life for half an hour," said Karkat, but before John could comment he continued, "By all means, take a moment to laugh with glee and sigh with pity at the decrepit state of the troll known as Karkat Vantas, who can't even afford to drive home his human bosom companion on his first day on Alternia. What a riot."

John raised an eyebrow. "Karkat, all I did was ask why. I wasn't going to, you know, judge or anything. Bros, right?"

Karkat sighed, though it was perhaps a tad more melodramatic than it should've been. "Right. Bros. Bosom companions. Friends. Whatever the word of the day happens to be, although I don't doubt that the results will be equally shitty. Now come on, we don't have all night." He grabbed onto John's arm, his claws pricking his skin lightly through the fabric of his jacket, and began dragging him towards the end of the platform.

"You don't sound too happy," John commented as they marched down a flight of stairs, then stepped out from beneath a tall arch mounted with Alternian lettering and onto the sidewalk. Automobiles of various shapes and sizes whizzed by on the road, their engines burning blue and gold and white-hot and leaving behind faint trails of smoke and a lingering stench of ozone and burning metal.

"Don't take it personally," Karkat said, his grip not loosening even though they had cleared most of the crowds. "It's been a long day."

"How long?"

Karkat looked up at John from under his hood. "Really, really fucking long." His gaze dropped back to the pavement, though this didn't seem to hinder him as he led John down the street and around too many corners to count. Slowly but surely they made their way out of the heart of the city, emerging from the urban sprawl of hivestems and grubloaf delis into an area that, though quieter, still carried with it a tenseness, like a taut bowstring waiting to snap. A small gaggle of human tourists wandered by - "Idiots," Karkat muttered under his breath - and stopped to request that John take their picture in front of a poster pinned to the wall advertising the newest soper capsule.

"They won't last long," the troll muttered darkly as the group faded away into the distance, tittering loudly. Sensing John's impeding question, he added, "There's establishments that cater to humans, but if that lot don't take themselves seriously they're going to end up getting hurt, and then the Legislarcerators will have a field day picking apart all the loopholes in your human legal system."

"They've made adjustments to account for the Alternian system, though, and inter-planetary disputes and whatnot," said John. Karkat shrugged.

"You haven't ever met a Legislarcerator, have you."

"Can't say that I have."

Karkat looked up at John again, and this time there was a look on his face somewhere between joy and fear. "And you better fucking hope you never will. They're _ruthless_ ," he said. "Give them an inch - _less_ than an inch - they'll take the whole grubshitting mile and every mile after that."

"You sound like you know them pretty well."

"I have a friend. Had. Have. She went into the business. I haven't talked to her for a while now."

"How come?"

"What is this, a therapy session?" Karkat snapped. "I invited you here so I could bask in the beauteous glory of your company, not have my already tender psyche be picked apart by some wannabe psychiatrist."

"Actually, I have a friend-"

"Shove off, Egbert."

Karkat finally halted in front of a hive that was more unobtrusive than most, the outer walls devoid of the marks and cloth awnings that typically adorned a troll home. There was no color here, just the same ashen grey that Karkat always surrounded himself with. John deigned to comment, and stepped inside curiously. Karkat's eyes flickered about nervously, and it was only when the door was shut and locked behind them that he relaxed, or appeared to. A troll was never truly relaxed. Their system didn't allow for it.

A shadow loomed out of the corner of the room.

John squeaked and stumbled backwards as the troll loped towards him, its mouth agape and its eyes vacant. Before he could protest, it had grabbed onto his face and was twisting it this way and that, scrutinizing every inch until it leaned back, apparently satisfied.

"So you're the guy my bro's always rambling on about," the troll said, his voice languid. "Ain't never met a human before. Are all you motherfuckers this pale and squishy? Because man, that is _sick_."

"Uh," said John. Karkat stifled a chuckle, and John noticed that that was the first time he had heard Karkat laugh, or even make any sign to show that he was pleased.

"Sorry, maybe I should've warned you. John Egbert, human, meet Gamzee Makara, hopeless reprobate of a troll. He sneaks into my hive so often that my reaction timing is way off, and I guarantee you one day it's gonna get me culled." Gamzee raised a hand and gave a little wave, running his fingers through his massive tangle of hair with the other. He had on the same type of makeup as the subjuggulator at the station, though his was sloppier and less intimidating, streaks of grey showing through around the corners of his mouth.

"Hi," said John.

"I thought you were on-duty," Karat said, moving further into the hive.

"Those lousy motherfuckers punted me off the ship," came the reply. "Said I wasn't nearly quite _pious_ enough, didn't have enough motherfucking _respect_ , an' I said they were ones to talk, always with their going-ons about being _worthy_ , like there's anyone actually capable of being _worthy_. Told me to find myself a church and pray like there ain't no tomorrow unlike my thinkpan's got all its shit lined up nice and neat like a motherfucking _parade._ "

"Is it working?"

"Ain't got nothing yet. Been thinking of paying a visit to my brothers down at the local church, see if they can be giving me any hints on how to get my piety on."

"Sure. Great," said Karkat, his voice muffled. "John, come on. You can dump your shit in the hall."

"Are you a subjuggulator?" John asked the taller troll.

"Nah bro, I ain't worthy of the righteous title just yet. Gotta tear some pages from the high-up books an' get all my studying, crush a couple of skulls. Real simple stuff." John didn't ask if Gamzee was being serious about the skull-crushing. He didn't think he wanted to know.

The three of them settled around a small table in the middle of the kitchen, though Karkat hadn't called it that. He'd spouted out a long string of words in English that implied food preparation and then a much shorter string in Alternian that sounded like guttural insect clicks. Gamzee had laughed, though he'd refused to explain what was so funny. "Just laughin' at the miracle of the word," was all he said. Karkat rolled his eyes.

"Shut up and eat," he ordered, and they sat in silence for the next couple of minutes. If John had expecting more conversation, he didn't comment. Finally, after swallowing down a last bite of the grey and spongy thing he'd called grubloaf, Karkat asked, "So, what do you think?"

John looked down at his plate. "Of the food? It's all right, I guess." It had a bland but coppery taste and a consistency that reminded him of pulled pork, but wasn't bad. Almost like tofu.

"No, chumpass, of Alternia."

John grinned. "Aren't you supposed to ask me that when it's time for me to leave? I just got here!"

"First impressions are important too."

"It wasn't as violent as you suggested, I guess. I sort of expected there to be people dying in the streets or something. Blood in the gutters. Slasher movie stuff."

Karkat half-choked on his loaf. "Jesus _fuck_ , John, you thought it was that much of a piss puddle and you still came? This human disease called friendship does some fucked-up things to your thinkpan. But if you're _really_ all that into bodily fluids getting sprayed all over the place I don't see why we can't go loiter two blocks away from some seedy fluid-imbibing establishment and wait for sparks to fly."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"No _shit_. Or is sarcasm no longer a thing with you humans?"

"Sarcasm is still totally a thing with us humans."

Karkat stole a glance at Gamzee, who had hardly touched his food and was running his fork across the top, leaving thin lines in the grey block. "You okay, dude?" he asked, rising from his seat and placing a hand against Gamzee's forhead. "You don't _feel_ sick." Gamzee shrugged, and promptly stuffed the rest of his grubloaf into his mouth, trailing crumbs and smudging his makeup around the edges.

"Nah, just contemplating the mysteries," he said, his voice muffled by the food. "Think I'm gonna finish up an' head on down to church. You motherfuckers wanna tag along? Get this squishy little fella some education on the great miracle an' all that." He patted John tentatively on the shoulder. John shrugged.

"Sure," he said. "I mean, is it okay? Won't they, y'know, get annoyed or anything?"

Gamzee grinned and slid languidly out of his chair, running his fingers through his matted mess of hair. A month or two more and it'd be the full dreadlock ensemble, John thought. "Mirthful Messiahs don't discriminate," said the troll. " 'Sides, you'll be with me, and if you've gone and got my blessing there ain't nothing those walkin' sacks of shit can do about it." He gave a sidelong glance to Karkat. "You comin' too, Karkitty?"

"Only Nepeta calls me that," grumbled Karkat, flushing a light shade of red.

" 'S a cute name," chuckled Gamzee.

"Shut up."

"Who's Nepeta?" asked John, wondering how many of Karkat's other friends he would get to meet.

"Just a friend," said Karkat, stressing the word more than might've been necessary, though John felt it was more for Gamzee's benefit than his own. "We don't talk much because her moirail's kinda overprotective and also ridiculously massive. Like, he could probably take down Gamzee in a fight, but that's not even the point. She comes up with all these dorky nicknames and stuff. I don't mind it, I guess, but then other people started using them and now it's become this running gag thing. Sollux thinks it's fucking hilarious, God knows _he_ can go shove his bulge into a recuperom filtration system."

"I'm gonna guess that Sollux is another 'just a friend'?" asked John, wiggling his eyebrows. Karkat scowled and punched him in the shoulder.

"Shut up. How'd you feel if I started insinuating that every one of your Earth friendships had romantic connotations? How do you _really_ feel about this Rose Lalonde that you mention so often?"

"Um," said John. "Well, actually-"

"Wow, okay, way to kill the joke. But like, good luck and whatever." Karkat flashed a brief grin and his teeth, though pointed, were short and blunt. "I guess I'll come. To the church, I mean. I don't trust either of you enough to leave you alone together, anyways."

"What, worried your bosom companion might hook up with your roommate when you're not looking?" teased John.

"As if," scoffed Karkat, yanking his coat off the back of his chair and moving towards the front door. "Now c'mon, or do you _want_ to get caught outside come sunrise? Because if that's the case then you're welcome to spend the rest of the day in a seedy, second-rate hotel somewhere where the recuperoms have weird stains and the abulation trap stinks of regurgitated soper."

"Ew," said John.

"That about sums it up, yeah. Apparently Sollux got caught up in one of them once, because fucking hackers don't have any sense of time, and you could hear the one-night-standers hatefucking through the walls."

"At the risk of repeating myself..."

Karkat flapped a hand. "Okay, I'll stop. I thought you _wanted_ to know more about Alternian customs." He opened the door and the three of them stepped out into the street, John and Karkat pressed close together and Gamzee hovering over them like an overprotective hawk.

"Yeah, but not like, seedy hotels," said John, wrinkling his nose. "I meant holidays and stuff."

"Gah," said Karkat. "Don't even mention that stuff. I doubt you'd even get the reasoning behind most of them, aside from Twelfth Perigee, which is about as close as it gets to your Christmas, minus the awful angels and squishy human baby kings."

"Huh," was all John said. Gamzee, true to form, said nothing at all.

The church was several blocks down, and easily distinguishable from the surrounding buildings. For one thing, it was a lot shorter, its jagged steeple barely reaching three stories in comparison to the massive stacks of surrounding hives. The only building shorter was an open-fronted restaurant across the street that emitted a thick stench of burning meat and looked to be selling some form of kebab. The several tables set out in front were empty, and the troll leaning against the counter had a look on his face that turned despondent every time he glanced at the church. Subjugglators obviously weren't very good for business, and John felt sorry for the owner. Maybe on the way back he'd suggest to Karkat that they stop to eat.

The other thing that set it apart was the color. It trailed from the awnings in front in rows of bright, colorful streamers and hung along the sides of the building in striped swathes of cloth that made John think of a circus tent. The doors were painted indigo and splattered with droplets of various other colors.

Gamzee was in his element. He brushed past the hanging streams of colorful flags that graced the front of the dark building and pushed open the door, which swung heavily inwards on overly large hinges. The interior of the church was dim, the only light that which filtered in through the stained glass windows from outside, and that of the large candles piled on every available space. The air was musty and thick, and the smell only became more noticeable after the three of them had filed inside, the door swinging shut behind them almost of its own accord. It was a very _alien_ smell, John thought, and it burned the insides of his nostrils when he breathed. Not necessarily troll, but something else altogether, a pungent mix of sweat and incense and heat and blood.

He glanced over at Karkat and saw that the troll looked uncomfortable as John felt, his teeth grit and his fingers balled into fists. Gamzee was the exception. He appeared more relaxed here than on the street, or even Karkat's hive. His gaze was reverent.

There were only a few other trolls in the church, most of them Gamzee's size or larger, their indigo-banded uniforms stained and ragged. Practically everything in the church bore some sort of stain, John noted, the floor and walls splattered with all a manner of colors and shades.

"Please tell me that's paint, and not blood," he whispered to Karkat, and his voice felt unnaturally loud in the stillness.

"This is Alternia," hissed Karkat. "Those two are practically the same thing."

"Oh," said John. No wonder his friend looked so uncomfortable. When he looked at the walls he didn't just see the blood of other trolls - he saw what could be the blood of his friends, once upon a time. The blood of the kebab vendor from across the street. John's, even, because there was red blood streaked there too, in greater abundance than any of the others. He wondered which color was Karkat's, how much of it there was. Even indigo was not exempt, but if Gamzee noticed it he didn't appear bothered. He was part of this church as much as John and Karkat were not.

"Have a seat, brothers," said the tall troll, gesturing to a nearby pew that glistened with spilled wax. His voice was lower in pitch than before, and John wondered if it was a conscious effort or merely an effect of the place they were in. He sat, scratching at the seat and feeling the wax peel away under his fingers and catch beneath his nails. It was the candles, he realised, that were responsible for some of the church's scent, and when he brought his fingers to his nose he could smell it there, too, rubbed into his skin.

Karkat remained standing, and twitched every few seconds. Gamzee patted him gently on the shoulder and moved between the rows of pews to speak with a subjuggulator tending to a small alter in the corner. Their voices were soft, but carried enough distance for John to make out what was being said.

"What did you come here for, brother?" asked the kneeling troll, rising to loom imposingly over Gamzee. "And who have you brought?"

"Came to improve my learnings," responded Gamzee. "Got orders from on high to ensure I've gone and gotten enough _piety_ worked into my thinkpan. Brought friends. They were all up and curious 'bout the ways of the Messiahs, so I figured they might come along and do some learnin' of their own." He gestured to John and Karkat and the older troll followed his gaze. John met the troll's eyes and flinched, ducking his head.

"We shall see," he heard the troll say. "Not sure how the mighty Messiahs might feel about a human treading along their path, but if it has your blessing then they may take it as they can." Then the conversation dropped to a volume so low even the acoustics of the room couldn't make it detectable.

"This is so weird," John whispered. He wasn't sure how he felt about being referred to as an 'it.'

"Gee, you don't say."

"Are you okay?"

Karkat growled and stuck his fists deep into his coat pockets. "This place gives me a weird itch. Maybe it's the smell. I don't know. It just feels like we shouldn't be here, you know?"

John looked around at the bloodstained walls, at the altar standing black and imposing at the head of the church, at the windows with their depictions of slaughter and sacrifice. The church of the Mirthful Messiahs, he decided, was not for him. "I know," he said, nodding. "You think Gamzee would mind if we left?"

"Maybe," said Karkat, shrugging. "We should probably tell him, though."

"He's coming back," said John, his stomach falling when he saw that the other troll had left her place to visit them. Gamzee's grin of elation looked more sinister than pleasant in this low light, and strange shadows played across his face, transforming his makeup into a jagged mask.

"How're my two best guests doing?" he asked.

"Well-" began John, swallowing nervously.

"Okay," interrupted Karkat, trying hard not to look at the subjuggulator standing imposingly behind his friend. "We're doing okay. John's sort of uncomfortable, though. I might take him home."

"But you'll come back?" asked Gamzee expectantly. "Be nice if you did, after all the trouble I gone and went to to get you here."

"If there's time." John knew there wouldn't be. He felt almost bad for Gamzee. The troll _did_ have a point, after all.

"I mean, I could stay for a little longer," he said. Karkat gave John an incredulous look.

"Really?" he asked, trying to contain the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess," said John. "And I mean, I did say I wanted to learn about troll culture."

"Give us a moment," said Karkat to the two indigobloods, then grabbed John by the sleeve and dragged him across the aisle and several pews down, so that they were almost directly behind another troll with his head bowed low, a steady stream of mutterings emitting from beneath his hood. "Are you crazy?" Karkat hissed, his voice the faintest John had ever heard it. "You go ahead and agree with me that yeah, this place is weird and you want to leave, and then you turn heel and tell them that you'll _stay_? What sort of fucked-up game of double-cross are you playing at, Egbert?"

"It just seems sort of rude to leave Gamzee hanging like that! I mean, after he was nice enough to invite us along and everything."

Karkat rolled his eyes. "He won't care. Honestly. The only things that guy cares about are his fucked-up religion and getting his daily dose of soper, and maybe me. That's literally it. It's sad, but true. Like, don't get mewrong, he has other interests, but as far as things go he doesn't pay a lot of attention to anything that isn't on his top three list."

"Yeah, but-"

"Okay, fine. If it satisfies your manners fetish, then we'll stay."

John raised an eyebrow. "Manners fetish?"

"Whatever." Karkat straightened and started shuffling back towards Gamzee and the other highblood. "Just needed to clear up a misunderstanding with my friend here," he said sheepishly. "We're staying."

John coughed. "Before we start with anything, could I, uh. Could I use your bathroom?" he asked. "Abulation trapper. Thingy."

"Through there," said the highblood, pointing to a door at the far end of the church. Karkat gave John an incredulous look that said, _Really? At a time like this?_ but also, _You're really going to leave me all alone in here?_ "Do you require an escort?"

"Um. No. I can probably find it on my own, thanks." He started off towards the door, mouthing, _I'm sorry_ to Karkat, who glowered at him. He was, thought John, very small in comparison to the other two trolls, and appeared a lot less threatening. He hoped he would be okay.

The door opened into a hall that was more or less abandoned, save for a small indigoblood with limbs like sticks who was scratching something onto the wall and gave John a confused look as he passed. John didn't look back, and walked faster, though not too fast that he appeared suspicious. He wondered whether anyone would try to attack him. This _was_ a highblood church, after all, and as far as he knew not all trolls were so accepting of humans as Karkat had been. They were friendly enough on the streets, or at the very least apathetic, but here in the secluded hallways there was no telling what might happen. Maybe it would've been better to ask for the escort after all.

There were a number of doors all down the hall, but none of them looked like a bathroom. One would think that there would at least be symbols of some sort dictating each door's purpose, but their faces were all as blank and identical as a row of unmarked graves. It wasn't as though he would've been able to read them if they _had_ had signs. Alternian had been an optional language course in high school. John had taken one look at the strange alphabetic symbols and the dialect listings and opted for French instead.

He would have to choose a door at random, he decided, and see where luck took him. Hopefully, not into the arms of a ravenous troll.

The first two were locked, and the third opened up onto a small storeroom filled with stacks of books and crumbling scrolls. The far wall had any number of square openings stuffed with yet more scrolls, their ends marked with brightly-colored tapes. Some sort of storage room for the sacred texts, he presumed. Definitely not a bathroom.

The fourth appeared locked, but after a few jiggles of the knob it clicked open, revealing a set of stairs leading down into a green-tinted gloom, the lights on the walls flickering and erratic. John thought he could hear hushed voices below, but he couldn't be sure. He glanced back down the hallway and saw that the skinny troll had finished making their wall markings and vanished to God-knows-where. Probably through one of the locked doors, he thought. No matter. Maybe there were people downstairs who could tell him how to get to where he wanted to go. He squared his shoulders and marched down.

The stairs gradually began to curve, leading him deeper underground until he wondered if he was underneath the church. How many churches had underground rooms? That would, he supposed, explain the reason behind its squat architecture. Rather than building up like the rest of the city, the church of the Mirthful Messiahs had opted for a more downward direction.

He thought he heard voices, and stopped several steps from the bottom before slowly creeping forward and peering into the next room. There was no one there, only a series of tall vats that bubbled slowly and stank of chemicals. One of them had a leak, and bright green fluid oozed slowly onto the floor to collect in a vicious puddle. There was a switchboard and a series of valves and dials set into the wall next to the door, and John squinted at it curiously. He couldn't read any of the writing, but he thought he recognised one of the words, from the posters that were plastered everywhere advertising soper capsules.

Soper. The church of the Mirthful Messiahs was cooking up soper?

Wasn't that illegal?

He was going to be in so much trouble.

Before he could make a break for it, he heard footsteps echoing down the stairs and cursed under his breath. If he was caught down here there was no way they were going to let him out, even if he _was_ human, even if he _did_ have friends upstairs who would notice when he didn't come back after a while. Highbloods had ridiculous authority over the system, _any_ system, Karkat had told him once, and they wielded it with totalitarian grace. One human tourist more or less meant nothing to them. If they wished, they could crush him in their massive fists like an ant. He needed a place to hide, and he need it now.

The only available space was behind the vats of soper, and he wedged himself into the gap between the nearest one and the wall with no degree of grace, crouching down as far as he could and hoping that no one would hear him breathing. The extrasensory talents of trolls increased the higher up on the hemospectrum you were, so there was no telling what these indigobloods would be able to discern.

The one that entered the room was the same who had been speaking with Gamzee earlier, and he wondered what had happened for her to abandon his friends upstairs. It was probably nothing, he assured himself. She had probably just left them with another guide, one better-suited to a task so menial as a church tour. He'd only been gone five minutes, at most. Surely nothing could've gone wrong in such a short span of time.

Well, he thought. He was stuck down here, wasn't he.

The troll rasped something in Alternian, and two others came in from the next room, their voices awash with irritation. John could just barely see them through the gap between two vats. Unlike the first, they were not clad in church vestments, but plain black work clothes marked with deep blue. Not part of the church, then. Just workers, one male and one female.

"The old language is purposeless," one of them snarled in heavily-accented English. "Your devotion to it is laudable, but also laughable."

"Why'd you come?" asked the second.

"We have a visitor," said the Indigoblood. "And the door was unlocked."

"Idiot!" screeched the first blueblood, slapping her partner upside the head. "The lock is flawed. What have I told you about checking it?"

"I _did_ ," insisted the second. "Twice. I don't get why you're so worked up about it. I mean, it's not like anyone's going to come down here who doesn't already know."

"There are _permissions_ ," hissed the first troll. "And didn't you hear, there is a _guest_. What if they had come wandering down here on their way to the abulation trap? Do you not _consider_ these things, Vlakis?"

"No one puts an abulation trap underground," said Vlakis snidely. "That's just asking for block-ups. Nasty work with the pipes, too. That's what I told them when they wanted to put the vats down here, but do they listen? No. 'Just tunnel through several hundred feet of concrete, Vlakis,' they said. 'It won't be any trouble at all,' they said. 'We'll pay you for the overtime,' they said. All _lies_."

"Idiot," said the first, and John heard her slap her partner again. "Now, did you have a specific request for us, Lady?"

"Luck it all up. Particularly the lab. If things go wrong, you will be personally held responsible. And then-" She growled something in Alternian, and the two bluebloods groaned.

"We understand," said the first.

"Got it," said the second, his voice cracking.

"Good," snapped the subjuggulator. "I shall return later to check the viscosity of the soper. Be prepared."

Oh _good_ , thought John. About time they finished up. He was beginning to lose all feeling in his legs, and his left shoulder had developed a nasty cramp from being shoved upwards for so long. The indigoblood started towards the stairs, and the two bluebloods turned back towards the second doorway, and John was elated because none of them had deigned to notice him and he might actually make it out of this, and wouldn't he have a story to tell to his friends back on Earth. But then.

That's always how it seems to go. Everything runs smoothly, "but then."

He sneezed.

All three trolls stopped, their feet scuffing hard against the ground, there breathing heavy.

"What," said the indigoblood, her voice dripping venom, "was that?"

"Not me," said Vlakis and his partner simultaneously.

"Someone is _down_ here," roared the indigoblood, and Vlakis let out a reedy, fearful whine. "Someone has gotten past the _locks_." There was a rush of air as the subjugglators claws arced through the air, and then the sickening sound of flesh tearing open and a body collapsing to the floor. The subjugglator's foot thudded against it with a grim finality. It took every ounce of John's willpower for him to hold back the gasp that threatened to squeeze its way past his treacherous lips. He was now in the room with two trolls and one fresh dead body, and somehow that was worse than being in the room with three trolls and _no_ dead body, if only for the fact that it reminded him of the possibility of becoming dead body No. 2.

"Vlakis-" choked out the blueblood.

"-failed," the indigoblood finished. "As you, hopefully, will not. _Find the infiltrator_ ," she demanded, and her voice was thick and twisted and sent a shudder down John's spine. " _ **Find it**_ ," the highblood repeated, and this time the shudder seemed to move through his very soul, and all he wanted to do was curl up and never move again and to run and run and run until he felt the knife between his shoulderblades. This time the gasp _did_ escape, and it was a pitiful choking noise, so insignificant that it was almost sad that he be betrayed by a sound so small.

John didn't wait to be found. Instead, he shoved himself out from between the vats and into a much worse situation, between two trolls. Not stopping to think, he chose the route less likely to kill him and shoved his way past the blueblood, who still stared in shock at the body of her friend, sapphire leaking from the gashes in his throat. There was a keypad set into the wall next to the door and he slammed the largest button there, which hopefully bore the command for _shut_.

It did. The door slid shut and he slid beneath it, nearly collapsing as blood suddenly rushed back into his legs and his shoulder let out a painful twinge. There was an identical keypad on the other side, and as he staggered to his feet he punched the pad as hard as he could, wincing as his knuckles made contact, cracking the small screen at the top. The pad let out a reedy whine, but didn't appear to be particularly broken. All he'd gotten out of it was a set of bloody knuckles, and he thought wistfully of the sci-fi flicks Jade had been so fond of dragging him to, where the hero or heroine could solve all their problems with the zap of a blaster. He didn't have a blaster, and if he did then he doubted it would be useful against something so massive as a troll. His only option was flight.

He wasn't complaining.

The next several rooms were all abandoned and identical, vat after vat of soper cooking away in the bowels of the earth. Behind him, he heard the subjugglator's scream of frustration as the door failed to respond to her angry pounding.

"We had the codes changed," the blueblood explained meekly.

" _ **Enter them**_ ," the other troll demanded. John felt that same soul-rending jolt of terror run through him, and nearly tripped over his own feet as they tried to run in every direction at once. He barreled around a corner-

And stopped.

He knew about ectobiology labs, but he'd never seen one outside of blurry magazine photographs and technical diagrams yanked from the back of obscure science journals. Jade had explained them to him once as the height of genetic manipulation technology, brought over from Alternia piece by piece by desperate scientists and then assembled in some covert government facility. At least, that was how the stories went. In reality, the existence of ectobiology was mere speculation, and made a mockery of within Earth's scientific fields. "It's ridiculous," one scientist was quoted as saying. "You can't just _make_ people out of _slime_. Who comes _up_ with something like that? I mean, wow."

In the diagrams, there had typically been a series of smaller containment tubes surrounding a large central computer, since the machine was incapable of creating more advanced, and by extent larger, forms of life. This one had discarded the smaller tubes in favor of two moderately-sized ones placed on either side of a massive tank, in which there floated

A troll.

The church of the Mirthful Messiahs had an ectobiology lab buried underground and hidden behind an illegal soper production plant. It was like something out of a bad troll sci-fi flick, the sort that receives minimal money at the box office and then becomes an instant cult classic upon its DVD release. John moved closer to have a look at the computer, wondering if the diagrams had been as accurate as they claimed. He'd considered majoring in electrical engineering, once, but the interface laid out in front of him made him remember why he hadn't. Lines of code he understood, to an extent. Wires and diodes only made his head hurt.

There was a bar on the far side of the console that was filled up about halfway, and when he pushed the button beneath it, a voice intoned, "Ectobiological generation fifty-two percent complete. Estimated time until completion: two and a quarter perigrees."

"Too slow," said a voice behind him. "Too _slow_." He whirled to see the subjuggulator snarling at him from the doorway. The blueblood was nowhere to be found.

"What is all this?" he asked, backing up against the console.

"Ours," said the indigoblood.

"Yeah, but-"

" _Ours_ ," repeated the troll. " _Ours_ , to _lead_ and _control_ , and then we shall rise up and take all else that is _**ours**_."

"Great," squeaked John. "Um. I didn't actually mean to come down here, if that helps. I was looking for the, er, bathroom. And if you could point me in that direction then I promise to forget everything I just saw and never speak of it to anyone, even though they'd probably never believe me if I did anyways, so-"

"No."

"What?"

"You've seen it. Now you are ours, too." The subjuggulator extended a clawed and accusatory finger. John felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple and his gut clenched viciously. There had to be another way out, he thought. He couldn't die. Not now. And certainly not here, in some hidden lab far, far beneath the ground on an alien planet. He would become just another number, one of the many who went missing on their interstellar trips for one reason or another, no questions asked. The troll started towards him, and, once again, he turned and ran, moving around to the other side of the machine, where the ground was thick with streams of wire wrapped in a pulsating cocoon of something that might have been flesh, but that he didn't want to think about at the moment.

And, against all hope, there was a door. An open door. He didn't stop to think but dashed up the stairs behind it as quickly as his legs could carry him, his muscles burning in protest with every step. He quietly thanked the dead blueblood, the one who had been so careless with the locks and had his throat ripped open because of it. Vlakis was dead, but because of that, John just might live.

The stairs curved around, following a path similar to the one that had led John down in the first place, and he wondered if the church followed a symmetrical layout. The footsteps following him were loud and dangerous, and he thought he heard the highblood growl a word, the same word - " _Ours_." He shuddered. Then came the door, and he slammed through it with such force that he almost careened into the wall on the other side, if not for the fact that he ran into Karkat first.

The troll sprawled backwards, John nearly landing on top of him. "What the fuck!" Karkat spat, rubbing the back of his head and extracting himself from the tangle of limbs. "Did you see some guy's bulge while you were down there, Egbert?"

"What?" croaked John. "No!"

"Who the hell puts a bathroom downstairs, anyways?"

"Not a bathroom," John choked, slamming the door and grabbing Karkat by the wrist. "We need to leave. Now."

"But you haven't hardly seen nothin'," Gamzee objected.

"Ha!" Ideally, John felt, he would be halfway down the hall by now, but dragging Karkat along was not going so smoothly as originally planned, the troll alternating between obscenities and repetitive, unanswered queries. He wondered if Gamzee's presence would give him any credit towards not being dead slash eviscerated.

There was a loud crash as the door to the stairs went flying off its hinges and went crashing into the opposite wall with even more force than John had. He didn't turn to look, but knew that if he did he would see the subjuggulator, fuming horribly and foaming at the lips, fangs bared in a vicious snarl.

"Out of the way, boy," she demanded, breathing heavily, and John felt her hot breath on the back of his neck. This must be how rabbits felt in the wild, he thought. "This one requires _culling_."

"But he's a brother," responded Gamzee, his voice level. "If he got himself all up in fuckin' trouble then I'll speak for 'im."

"What the fuck did you _do_?" demanded Karkat, wresting himself free of John's grip. His voice seemed to have jumped up an octave from panic. "What did you fucking _do_?"

" _He saw something he should not have_ ," said the subjuggulator. " _And now he is ours to make pay._ "

"He ain't motherfuckin' _yours_ ," said Gamzee, frowning. "He's got all the right makings and such t'be his own goddamn person."

"You are _impudent_."

"I'm just telling the honest fuckin' truth. Guess they like that as much down here as they do up there. 'Sides, he's a squishy human. Can't hurt you or nothing."

"He was _trespassing_. If you will not let us cull him, then let the law settle with him." the subjuggulator fixed John with a steely glare. "You will _remain_ until the legislarcerators arrive. You _and_ your companions. If you do not, I will kill you where you stand, regardless of what this _boy_ may think of it. Do I make myself _clear_?"

"Yes'm," John squeaked.

"Return to the chapel," the subjuggulator ordered. " _ **Now**_ **.** " She turned and marched away down the hall, back hunched and claws scratching at the air. Karkat let out a wheeze and grabbed John by the collar, shaking him back and forth until his head wobbled.

"What. Did. You. Do?" he demanded, punctuating each word with a particularly violent shake.

"I got lost!" protested John, trying to pry Karkat's fingers off his shirt. "Honestly! And they had all these vats of soper down there, which I thought was weird, but then there was this _other_ thing-"

"You saw _soper_?"

"Yeah, but-"

"God, no _wonder_ they didn't want you getting out," Karkat moaned, releasing his grip and letting his hands flop listlessly at his sides. "Do you have any _idea_ how hard that stuff is policed these days? I mean, if it's the church doing it then they're more than likely to get off, but _still_. _God_ , John. I don't even know what to fucking do with you right now." He stopped, then said, with growing dread in his voice, "Did they say legislarcerators were coming?"

"Yeah, but that's not the-"

" _Shit_ ," said Karkat, his face growing pale. "Shit shit _shit_. I need to leave. I need to leave _now_." He started up towards the chapel at a frantic pace, muttering things under his breath. John caught:

"-please don't let there be guards I have to-"

"-can't even fucking _think_ about that, not when-"

"-they're gonna run a blood test, there's no way-"

He caught up with the troll quickly enough and the two marched in sync past the altar and down the long rows of pews, their candles still burning hotly. "Karkat, what's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong, there's fucking _legislarcerators_ coming, is what's wrong, I can't-" He shuddered to a halt and grasped John by the shoulders. "I can't let them run a blood test."

"Why not?"

"Jesus _christ_ , John. I just - it doesn't matter." The troll turned to Gamzee, who was watching them with a concerned look on his face and wringing his boney hands. "Is there a back exit?" he demanded. Gamzee nodded. "Good. Tell me where."

"I could-" Gamzee began.

"No, don't show me. I need you to stay with John and make sure he doesn't go and get his stupid human ass killed because he pisses of some lawman or gets his words interpreted wrong. Tell me _where_ , Gamzee." The indigoblood raised a tentative hand and gestured off to the side. Karkat huffed. "Okay. John, really though, try not to die."

"Where are _you_ going?"

"Out."

"And you're not taking me with you?"

"Do you have any idea how _noticeable_ you are?" Karkat spluttered. "Do you think I _want_ to get convicted of harboring a criminal? Look, I-"

"You _what_?" said John angrily. "You're sorry for abandoning your friend when the cops are coming? You're sorry you let me come down here in the first place?"

Karkat sighed. "I know it's crazy. I would stay if I could. I really would. But I can't."

"Why _not_?"

"I'll explain it to you some other time. I need to _leave_. John, they will _kill_ me if they find out. I will be _dead_." Karkat paused. "I'm sorry," he muttered, then ran.

John watched as the small troll scurried off towards some dark corner of the church, feeling betrayed. He glanced over at Gamzee, who looked equally confused, and wondered just how much trouble he was going to be in when the law arrived. He considered running, but the front doors were no doubt off limits by this point, and if the word had gotten out that there was a human in the church who was to remain there, he wasn't getting out, back exit or not. Everything was based around "what ifs," and he hated it, but when the alternative option to success was potential disembowelment by angry troll, he thought that sitting back and letting the legal system perform its function might not be such a bad idea.

The legislarcerators arrived about five minutes later, a group of serious-looking tealbloods in strict black uniforms with bandings the same color as their blood. the indigoblood who had confronted John belowground was discussing something with one of them, a short, squat troll with long fangs and a professional squint that she trained on John. John kept his expression blank and tried not to look guilty, a task that was more difficult than he had anticipated. Despite the fact that he didn't believe himself to be guilty of any crime, he found that in the presence of the law, any emotion that might have been misread as guilt became determined to force its way onto his features. He settled for frowning and looking down at the ground a lot, with the occasional sidelong glance as one of the legislarcerators approached Gamzee and stuck a needle into his arm, drawing out his dark blood and depositing it onto a small machine strapped to their wrist.

"Indigo," they said, and Gamzee nodded. The legislarcerator glanced over at John. "Human. No blood caste test required."

Hadn't Karkat said something about a blood test? That was why he'd been so desperate to leave. He'd said that they would kill him. Before he had time to continue this train of thought, the squat legislarcerator waddled over to him, arms crossed behind her back. "Name," she said.

"John Egbert," John stammered.

"You have been charged with trespassing and destruction of property. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," said John. _Obviously_. "Don't I need to go to court for this, though?" he asked tentatively.

The legislarcerator glanced behind her at the indigoblood, who stood by the doorway with her arms folded, glowering menacingly. "No," she said. "Court is only for those who have been charged with committing a capital crime, in accordance with Legislative Law Thirty-Four, Subsection C. Unless, of course," she added, raising an eyebrow, "you _wish_ to incur the possibility of the death penalty? After all, that is what the majority of court sentences consist of."

"I- no!"

"Then kindly refrain from speaking outside of answering the questions put to you. Do I make myself clear?"

"But- yes," said John through gritted teeth.

"Good. You will not be put on trial here," continued the legislarcerator. "You will be returned to Earth, in accordance with Section Twenty-Seven of the Alternian-Terran Treaty, and face your charges there in a court of your peers. A legislarcerator will be briefed on your case and assigned to accompany you as a representative for the accuser and serve as the prosecution. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You will accompany Legislarcerator Kevlan to your transport shuttle." A troll with a buzz cut took his place next to her. "You will answer any and all questions posed to you truthfully and in a timely manner. You will not ask any of your own. Dismissed."

Legislarcerator Kevlan, as he had been called, took John by the shoulder and began to steer him out of the church. John glanced behind him and saw Gamzee surrounded by three different legislarcerators, all of whom seemed intent on questioning the poor troll until he dropped. He was glad for a moment that he wasn't going to be subjected to such questioning, but then felt bad for leaving Gamzee behind when Karkat had made it his friend's responsibility to watch over John. Hopefully both of them would make it out of this alright. He reminded himself to contact Karkat when he arrived back on Earth, and almost laughed. He hadn't even been on Alternia for a full night and was already getting shipped back home. He supposed it was better than staying too long and ending up dead. Most things were. At any rate, he could return at a later time. People hardly got banned from planets for something as insignificant as trespassing.

The shuttle was parked in the street directly outside, and past it John could see the now-vacated kebab shop, its awning pulled down and its doors bolted shut. Nobody liked to take chances when the legislarcerators came to town, it seemed. Kevlan muttered something against his wrist and the boarding ramp slowly lowered with the whir of hundreds of tiny motors. The rows of seats inside were identical to those in the shuttle John had taken in, and he was roughly dragged up the ramp and shoved into one, getting barely enough time to move his arms out of the way before the troll brought down the safety bar and locked it into place. John wasn't going anywhere other than where they wanted him.

The legislarcerator in the church had told him not to ask questions, but he had to know: "How long is the flight?" Kevlan's expression was stony, and he said nothing, only retreated down the ramp talking into his wrist communicator again. The ramp began to move upward again, and the last thing John saw before it shut were the flags tied to the top of the church spire, flapping in the beginnings of the shuttle's engine wind as its motors flared to life and it began lifting off the ground. John felt his stomach drop and wondered whether it was from the change in altitude or from fear. He supposed it could be both. It wasn't as though he could do anything about it, regardless of which one it was.

The engines roared loudly and he felt the vibrations travel through the walls of the shuttle and through the back of his seat, jarring his teeth. Then, with a final burst of power, the ship shot out and away, delivering John to his fate.


End file.
